Return of the Exile

13 Slave Magic

Linsha found the main palace building and the door leading within. She watched the shadows by the walls and the dark corners, and when she saw no one move, she slipped inside.

Something shifted behind her. She heard the brush of sandals on the wooden floor and suddenly a clammy hand clamped over her mouth.

“Quiet,” hissed a voice in her ear. The smell of herbs and incense filled her nostrils. Afec.

Linsha relaxed and nodded once.

He backed away, gestured for her to follow, and led her to an empty room just a few paces away. “I hoped you would be able to flee him,” he whispered.

Linsha gave him a hug. “Are you all right?” she demanded. “Where have you been?”

He hugged her back but quickly backed away, looking nonplussed and embarrassed. “Busy. Preparing for your marriage ceremony. Among other things, I was sent to prepare the royal pavilion. Was it to your liking?”

“It was to Lanther’s.” She held up a quick hand to forestall any worries. “I did not kill him-hard as that was. He sleeps in bed, where he should be this late at night.”

Afec bowed in agreement. “As it should be. Did you bring the bottle?” When she nodded, he pantomimed pulling a cork. “Good. Now you take that to her. If she is asleep, pour it in her mouth. Make her drink it. It is a tonic to counteract the spells of the High Priest and renew her strength.”

Linsha patted the bottle under her shirt. “Is this what we gave her the other day?”

“It is very close. This has… more. To help her fight the poisons of the Keena.”

“Do the Damjatt have the same potions?”

“No. We have learned to make our own.” He took her elbow in the dark and led her silently to the door. “There are only a few hours of darkness left. You must go fetch the dragon. As soon as she is strong enough, fly with her away from here.”

Linsha stopped in her tracks. “But I have to take Callista. I cannot leave her behind. And what about you? We cannot just leave you. Come with us.”

Afec shook his head vehemently. “I have been down to the caves to see the dragon. She is not strong enough to carry three. You go release her. I will fetch Callista. We will wait for you by the lake in the garden of the Akeelawasee.”

The plan sounded reasonable to Linsha—much more reasonable than trying to help Callista climb down the rocky promontory. But the thought of leaving Afec behind did not sit quietly. There had to be some way to help him.

“What if—”

He cut her off. “Come,” he beckoned. “I know other ways to the lower levels of the palace.”

Light of foot, they passed out of the room and trod silently into the maze of back corridors and small stairs that only the slaves and servants knew well. They saw a few guards and one patrol along their way, but Afec stayed in the shadows and avoided their attention. They went down about three floors before they stepped off a flight of stairs into a dark hall that disappeared into darkness in both directions.

“I must go this way to the Akeelawasee,” Afec told her. “If you go to the right, you will come to a small door that opens to the main stairs leading down to the cavern. It is forbidden for slaves to go that way, so I can only tell you what I’ve heard.”

Linsha reached for the knotted belt to return it, but the old Damjatt touched her hand. “Take it. I can always make another.”

They parted quickly and went opposite ways down the long corridor. Linsha followed the way Afec had indicated and soon found the hall ended in a stone wall with a guard standing stiffly at attention. A small oil lamp hung from a sconce on the wall beside him and lit the area with insufficient light. Behind him she could see a narrow door.

She pulled loose the powder bag and hefted it experimentally. There wasn’t much left, but if all went well, she wouldn’t need much more. Too bad really. The powder was very useful. Since the wax was nearly gone from her palm, she made another impromptu bag from a strip of her tunic and added a little powder. She swallowed hard to moisten her dry throat, then she strutted forward in her baggy dark clothes as if she had every right to be there and knew exactly what she was doing.

“You!” she snapped in clear Tarmakian. “Where does that door lead?”

The guard was a young Tarmak, probably placed on guard at that quiet door late in the night to practice patience and self-discipline. He looked very startled to see her.

“Drathkin’kela, what are you—” he began. He got no further.

Linsha walked swiftly to him, so close she could smell the old sweat on his body and the fat he had rubbed into his leather gear. He took a step back in alarm, and she swatted his face with her powder bag. The pale powder flew out in a cloud, forcing her to leap back out of the way. The Tarmak crashed to the floor with a clatter of weapons. This time Linsha did not hesitate to take weapons. She removed his dagger, belt axe, and the short, powerful sword strapped at his waist, then she rolled him out of the narrow patch of light and into the dense shadows. The weapons felt good in her hands. She shoved the dagger and the axe in her belt, held the powder bag in one hand, and gripped the sword in the other. It felt like an old friend.

Cautiously she opened the door and peered in. As she hoped, it opened onto a small alcove to the side of the dimly lit staircase that led down to the dragon’s cave. In her bare feet she padded quickly down the stairs, keeping a careful watch for any guards on the way. The steps remained empty, and when she reached the last step she saw the tunnel was clear to the cave opening. At the entrance to the cave, however, there were two warriors standing to either side of the door. Both looked alert and very imposing. These Tarmaks guarded the main entry into the sacred cave and were far different opponents than the untried youth at the side door. She would not be able to slip up on them either, for the tunnel cut straight and clear from the stairs to the cave with no cover other than the dark shadows from one torch to the next.

Linsha frowned. There was no time for finesse and no room for error. She had to dispatch these two quickly or she would never be able to revive Sirenfal in time to meet Callista before daylight. It seemed very important to get away before the sun rose, before Lanther revived. She did not want to face his wrath, nor did she want Sirenfal to have to fight the Tarmaks. The brass would need all her strength to fly across the Courrain Ocean...

She pressed into a shadow and tried to think. She had no throwing knives and no bow. Just sleeping powder, a sword, and her reputation as “Friend of Dragons.” The frontal approach had worked before. The Tarmaks did not seem to be able to conceive of a woman approaching them unarmed as anything but a curiosity and a nuisance.

She pushed the dagger and axe around behind her back and wrapped her hand around the bag of powder where it could not be seen. Reluctantly she left the sword behind. It had only been hers for a short time, but it was too obvious to carry. Lifting a torch from its sconce on the wall, she stepped out into the corridor and walked boldly toward the guards.

“Good morning,” she called. “The Akkad-Dar is sleeping well.” She chuckled meaningfully. “But I cannot. He gave me permission to visit the dragon.”

The guards exchanged glances. Although her Tarmakian was more than a little rough, they seemed to understand all of it. The question was, Linsha thought, would they accept it?

“The dragon’s cave is forbidden to women,” one guard told her.

Linsha continued to walk toward them. “I’ve already been here, remember? I remember you. You helped the priests prepare the funeral pyre and stood guard at the foot of the steps in the cavern.”

The guards looked uncertainly at each other again, and Linsha pressed her point in her most arrogant tone of voice.

“I’m not like the other women. I have fought to the death and won. I am the Chosen of the Akkad-Dar. Do I have to go back to him and tell him you did not allow me access to the dragon’s cave when he has already given his permission?”

By this time she had almost reached the two Tarmaks. They glowered down at her, their expressions tense.

“I shall ask the priest Imshallik if you may enter,” one guard told her.

He was turning to go into the cave when Linsha threw the bag of powder and hit the other guard in the face. The first guard whipped around, drawing his sword as he turned, and he met Linsha’s dagger coming around to strike his stomach.

The Tarmak blade sank in deep just below his ribs. He gave a grunt of surprise, clutched his wound with one hand and with the other brought his sword around to chop her head off.

Linsha ducked the blow and lunged toward the second guard who lay sprawled on the stone floor. Her hand reached for the dusty powder bag, snatched it up, and threw it at the wounded guard. It grazed his head and flew by to hit the wall behind him. Linsha thought she had missed him with the bag, but the light graze had been enough to shake powder loose over his face. He staggered, fell to his knees, then toppled forward onto the dagger still embedded in his stomach.

Satisfied, Linsha retrieved another sword and dagger and hurried into the cave. The guards had warned her that a priest was somewhere within. As late as it was, she hoped he slept in the room Sirenfal had mentioned. Perhaps she should ensure he remained asleep.

Quietly she ran into the cave and hurried down the stairs to the main cavern floor. She saw Sirenfal asleep by the wall, but she turned away from the dragon and slipped over to the doorway that led into the priest’s sleeping room. The room was dark and silent. The bed was empty. Where was the Keena?

Linsha muttered several frustrated words under her breath and dashed to the dragon. This time the brass did not rouse at her arrival. She lay curled tightly in a ball. Her eyes were firmly shut. She was barely breathing.

“Oh no.” Linsha hissed. The dragon seemed to be in a state of dormancy. She knew dragons could put themselves in a deep hibernation, but she could not believe Sirenfal had done this to herself intentionally, not after their talk only three days ago. The brass had been truly sincere in her desire to escape her captivity. Which meant, Linsha decided in growing anger, the priests had probably drugged her again.

Desperate, she heaved at Sirenfal’s head and pulled it out from under the dragon’s wing. Staggering under the dead weight of the dragon’s big head, she tugged and pulled and finally stretched the neck out onto the stone floor. She untied the bottle under her tunic and brought it out. Afec had said to pour it into the dragon’s mouth, so Linsha hauled open Sirenfal’s mouth and, holding the dragon’s upper jaw with one hand, she poured the thick, dark liquid over the dragon’s tongue.

Obviously the dragon could not swallow while she was asleep, so how did the liquid get into her stomach? Linsha wondered. Maybe it didn’t have to. Maybe it absorbed into Sirenfal’s blood through her mouth. She didn’t know, and Afec hadn’t told her. She just had to trust the Damjatt and hope this tonic worked quickly.

She dropped the bottle and spread her hands over Sirenfal’s forehead. Her eyes closed as she concentrated on the power of the dragon scales hanging around her neck. She focused the power and send it inward to the dragon’s mind. At this close proximity, she should have no trouble reaching Sirenfal’s conscious thoughts—if there were any. Yet she found nothing. The dragon was completely unconscious and her thoughts buried under a shroud of dense obscurity. Linsha wished she had the talent to reach deeper. All she could do was try to talk to her and perhaps lead her closer to consciousness.

Sirenfal. I am here. It is time to go. You have to fight this! I have given you a tonic. Find it in your body and put it to use. It will help you, if you want to leave this place. She went on, sending her message to the unconscious dragon with growing urgency.

All at once a massive pain exploded in her back. Linsha cried out and fell sprawling on the floor beside the dragon. The high priest in his black robes leaned over her, a staff in his hands and a look of utter fury on his rugged face. Several Tarmak guards stood behind him, and one held a bloody dagger in his hand.

“Where is the text, woman?” snarled the priest. “What have you done with it?”

Linsha had no idea what he was talking about and had no time to give it further thought. The priest reached into his robes and pulled out an amulet of dragon’s teeth hanging on a cord around his neck.

Linsha struggled in the hands of the guards. “Sirenfal!” she screamed. “Wake up!”

The priest laughed, a nasty sound that reverberated through the cave. “The dragon cannot hear you, and the Akkad-Dar will not save you.” Holding the amulet in his hand, he reached out to Linsha.

She saw his hand coming and threw herself backward in the Tarmaks’ hold. She looked frantically for her powder bag, but she had left it in the tunnel beside the wall where it had fallen after she threw it at the guard. The warriors tightened their grip and held her still.

The priest’s hand touched her face. Pain bright and agonizing exploded in her head, and yet, even as the priest’s magic ripped away her strength and tortured her mind, she realized this was not as bad as the time the Akkad-Ur or Lanther had used this spell on her. Either the priest was not as strong or something was interfering with his magic.

Then she had no more time. The Tarmaks dragged her up the stairs away from Sirenfal and into the tunnel. She sagged in their hands in despair. Her chance to waken the dragon was gone. She would be taken to Lanther, and if he was lenient he would punish her and imprison her somewhere where she would never see the light of day again. If he was not, she would die.

Silence crept back into the cave. Solitude returned.

The Tarmaks were gone; the human was gone. There was no sound except for the distant crash of waves that washed quietly through the sea tunnel. On the cold stone floor of the cave, the empty bottle lay unseen in a shadow by the wall.

Then another sound intruded into the quiet—the sound of scales scraping on stone.

The dragon stirred.

Linsha felt herself hauled up the long flight of stairs, and she could do nothing about it. Every time she moved or tried to object, the priest touched her and sent his magic ripping through her head until she thought her skull would shatter at the merest touch of his fingers. Eventually she stopped struggling and simply let them drag her through the halls and out a large door.

It wasn’t until she heard voices of other guards that she opened her eyes and recognized the large, flattened cobbles of the huge courtyard of the imperial palace. Torches still burned in the sconces, and a few slaves moved around the tables making a desultory effort to clean up. Then she remembered with start that this was her wedding night and the feast that had been going on in the court when she and Lanther were escorted out was probably over. The Tarmaks, those that could still move, had retired.

“We found her in the dragon’s cave,” the priest explained to a keikegul. “And the Text of the Amarrel is missing. I would like to see the Emperor.”

“Send someone to check on the Akkad-Dar,” the officer said to another guard. “If she has injured or killed him, the Emperor must know.”

“Where did those two come from?” the priest asked.

Linsha lifted bleary eyes to see what he was talking about and gave a start of horror. Afec and Callista stood terrified between three Akeelawasee guards. One of the guards held several old leather bags.

“We caught them trying to leave the women’s quarters. They had stolen goods with them. This one is a slave, so I was going to report them to the Empress.”

Linsha caught the priest looking at her thoughtfully then studying the Damjatt and the courtesan. For Afec’s sake, she prayed he did not make a connection between them, but it would be hard not to.

“We must take all three before the Emperor,” the high priest said. “I believe they are working together.”

The officer was about to say something when a shadow swept over the court. Darker than night and faster than a storm, it blew over the palace with a powerful gust of wind and was gone in a blink. The Tarmaks looked up in alarm.

Linsha threw back her head and screamed, “Sirenfal!”

The meeting in the courtyard disintegrated into chaos. Shouts of warning sounded across the palace grounds, and bells rang a warning on the high walls and towers.

But the cries were too late. The stars blacked out as a large shape winged over the courtyard, wheeled and came back, crashing down like a burning star. Linsha heard the unmistakable flap of large sail-like wings and wrenched free from her stunned guards. She screamed a warning to Afec and Callista and dropped to the ground. She was just in time. The wind from the dragon’s powerful wings knocked the Tarmaks off their feet and sent the smaller Keena tumbling. The stones trembled under her landing. Linsha heard a snarl of anger and recognition. The high priest screamed. She lifted her head to see the priest scramble to his feet and try to raise his hands, but Sirenfal was not the sedated, fearful creature he was used to. She flung a mouthful of heavy chain at him that caught him across the thighs and sent him sprawling. With a flip of her wings, the dragon leaped up and came down on his body with all four feet. Turning her head, Sirenfal opened her mouth and sent a jet of superheated air blasting through the open door of the palace. Fire exploded in the wooden roof of the great hall, lighting the court with a lurid glow.

An arrow slammed into the stones by Linsha’s head. She struggled to stand upright. “Sirenfal, let’s go! Now, before more warriors arrive!”

The dragon, still standing in the red mess that had once been her tormentor, squealed with glee. “Hurry then. I have things to do.”

Linsha did not pay strict attention to the dragon’s words or her meaning. Her head still ached from the magic and she was frantic to get Callista and go. The Tarmak guards were climbing to their feet, drawing their swords. If they attacked the dragon and damaged her wings, there would be no journey home. One guard close to Linsha was still on his knees. He saw Linsha at the same moment she looked at him. He threw himself after her to bring her down. Years of training overcame her pain and weakness. She spun on her heel, bringing her right foot around in a vicious kick to his head that knocked him sideways and sent him crashing back to the cobbles. Before he could recover, she kicked him again and snatched the sword that fell from his nerveless fingers.

Another stream of hot air from the brass dragon blasted the high wall of the courtyard where guards stood loosing arrows at her. Stones exploded in the intense heat, and more fires erupted in the buildings around her. The dragon roared with delight.

Linsha felt the heat of the fires even in the center of the court. It was like standing in the middle of an oven. Frantically she looked for Callista in the growing smoke and running figures. She finally saw her standing over Afec, menacing an Akeelawasee guard with a dagger.

“Gods,” she breathed, amazed at the courtesan’s audacity. Gripping her sword, she sprinted for the small group. The big Tarmak guard saw her coming and turned his attention to her, away from the small blonde with the little weapon.

Behind him, Callista moved, her beautiful face set in a mask of grief and rage. Linsha saw her and screamed the Solamnic warcry to keep the guard’s attention focused on her. Swift and deadly, Callista’s dagger flashed in the light of the fires as she took a flying leap onto the Tarmak’s back and brought the edge of the dagger across his throat. Blood sprayed over his neck and chest. The guard fell forward onto the stones, and Callista fell on top of him. He struggled to roll over as his blood pooled over the cobblestones.

Callista clambered off his body and spat a name at him Linsha had only heard in the streets of the Missing City. She looked up at Linsha with tears in her eyes. “Afec—!” was all she could say.

Linsha’s eyes fastened on the fallen slave. She thought he had just dropped to the ground when the dragon came, but she could see now there was blood on his white robe. Too much blood. Crying, she knelt beside him and took his hand. He was not dead yet, but she could see he was almost gone. “Thank you,” she said.

A flicker of a smile settled on his aged face. “Take this,” he murmured, trying to push a large sack into her hands. “For you. Read it. Ariakan was… not Amarrel. He was… not.”

She took the bag just to please him, for his words did not sink in right away. She was too concerned for him. She leaned over and whispered in his ear, “You are free.”

The smile remained. The life behind it escaped at last.

“Linsha!”

Her head snapped up. Her blood ran cold. It could not be. She had given him enough powder to keep a draft horse asleep for a day. How could he be awake? How could his voice ring over the uproar in the courtyard? And yet, there he stood on the steps of the palace, the fire behind him, his face stained with rage.

“Lanther.” The name came out like a curse.

Linsha did not wait to see what he would do. She dropped Afec’s hand, snatched up the bag, and bolted for the dragon. “Callista! Sirenfal!” she screamed. “Time to go!”

The young brass heard her and extended a foreleg. Linsha and the courtesan scrambled up her leg and barely made it to her back before the dragon crouched and sprang up into the night sky. The dragon’s wings stretched up then beat in a powerful downstroke that helped fan the fires she had set in the palace. The force of her take-off flattened the two women to her neck.

“Hold on!” Linsha yelled to Callista as the dragon veered away from the palace.

The warning was needless, for the courtesan had her arms wrapped around Linsha’s waist like bands of iron and her head buried in Linsha’s shoulder.

She glanced down once and saw Lanther still standing on the steps. His face was turned toward them. In his hand was a sword. A cold shiver jolted up her spine.

She turned to look ahead. The palace fell away behind them, and she saw the field where the marriage games had taken place. They were headed the wrong way.

“South, Sirenfal!” she shouted over the creak of the dragon’s wings. “We have to go to the sea!”

“Not yet,” the brass answered in a tone as hard as steel.

Linsha looked down again and saw the Tarmaks’ city spread away beneath them, dotted with torchlight and filled with sleeping people.

The dragon’s breath seared across the large barracks-like building Linsha had seen on her arrival. The building burst into a conflagration, and in its fires Linsha saw hope.

“Sirenfal! Leave the city! You don’t have the strength!”

“No!” howled the dragon. “They took my eggs! They took my mate! They ruined me! I will kill them all!”

“Listen to me! Take your revenge, but use your head! The ships down there in the harbor will sail for Ansalon in five days! You can save our land. Burn those ships!”

The dragon’s body dropped in a dive that took Linsha’s breath away. She clung on, hoping desperately that Callista could hold. She heard the courtesan’s voice rise in a shout, then all sound was lost in a tremendous roar from the furious dragon. A jet of boiling air streamed from her mouth.

Linsha saw the harbor below. There were the ships tied side by side, many of them filled with food, weapons, armor, and the supplies of a conquering army. The dragon’s breath struck the wooden vessels and ignited them in an instant. She soared over the harbor burning every ship she could see, then she swooped around and came back to incinerate the ones she’d missed. The harbor below turned into a maelstrom of raging fires. She angled around again and incinerated the wharves, the docks, the warehouses, and the piles of stores that sat on the docks waiting to be loaded. Her eyes burned with reflected fires, and the light set her scales glowing like molten brass.

She was breathing heavily when she circled around for a fourth time, and her flying seemed labored.

“Sirenfal, we’d better go,” Linsha advised, staring down at the burning harbor.

The brass didn’t argue. She fired one more blast of heated air into the city itself, then she turned south and winged into the fading night.